


In which Cyclonus and Tailgate have a Conversation

by ultharkitty



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shippy little fic about Tailgate and Cyclonus, set just after the events of MTMTE issue #12.</p><p>Contains spoilers for MTMTE up to and including issue #12.</p><p>Thanks to spacehussy for the encouragement :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Cyclonus and Tailgate have a Conversation

Cyclonus blocked the doorway, effectively trapping Tailgate in their hab suite. "What do you want?"

Tailgate sat on the edge of his recharge slab, trying not to fidget. "Huh? I... What do I what?"

"What do you _want?_ " Cyclonus repeated. He flexed his new fingers, rubbing the tips with his thumbs. "From me."

"Do those feel all right?" Tailgate asked. "I don't think First Aid had any claws in supplies, and he did the be-"

"I don't have time for this." Cyclonus glared, his engine idling on what Tailgate liked to think of as his 'I want to come across as threatening, but I'm not actually feeling violent right now' frequency. It was quite soothing. 

"We could go get a drink," Tailgate said. "I mean, not from Swerve what with... everything, but maybe someone else has some engex and-"

"Answer," Cyclonus snarled. "The. _Question._ "

"Uh." Tailgate squirmed. This was going to be another one of those rejection scenarios, he could see it. He'd say something friendly and honest, Cyclonus would get tripped up by his own issues, and _bam!_ , goodbye conversation. "I..." 

Cyclonus stared.

Tailgate took a deep vent. "You're not very good at saying thankyou," he said.

"What?"

"If I hadn't dragged you to First Aid after the blast, I don't know who would have." He clasped his hands between his knees, trying his best to keep still. On a scale of calm to blind panic, bombs had nothing on this. "I don't expect anything from you. Except, um, courtesy would be nice. I just... I don't want anything bad to happen to you, and I want you to know what it's like to have someone who cares about you. That's all."

Cyclonus' optics narrowed. He folded his arms, and leaned back against the door. "You don't know me," he said. 

"I remember," Tailgate began, but Cyclonus cut him off.

"You remember someone who no longer exists," Cyclonus said. "And we hardly knew each other back then. I require neither your pity nor your sympathy."

"What about my friendship?" Tailgate said. "I think you're lo-"

"You will regret completing that sentence." 

"Maybe," Tailgate conceded. "I don't think I'm wrong though, am I?"

The silence lasted a spark-pulse too long. "You don't know what's good for you."

Tailgate nodded. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he should get a transfer, room with someone kinder, less volatile. But who would be there to look out for Cyclonus? 

Another spark-pulse of silence, then a click as Cyclonus re-aligned his jaw. "I am... grateful for your assistance," he said, and each word sounded as though it had been dragged through the smelter. "And I regret causing you embarrassment."

Were his audios malfunctioning? Tailgate looked up. Cyclonus' stare was downright confrontational. 

"You're welcome," Tailgate said. 

Cyclonus huffed and looked at the floor, but the cadence of his engine had changed. 

Tailgate swung himself off the bunk, and approached. He offered his hand. "Friends?" he asked, ready to jump back in case this was one step too far.

Cyclonus glared. He didn't shake Tailgate's hand, but he didn't knock him away either.

Tailgate lowered his arm, pleased. It was a start.


End file.
